To Raise, Perhaps, Many Flowers
by danniisupernova
Summary: Angela is brutally assaulted and tries to keep it from the team. But somethings can't be predicted, so she and Zack must deal with the aftermath together. STRONG SUBJECT MATTER!
1. Chapter 1

_Evil brings men together._

_-Aristotle (attributed)_

She felt like she'd been yanked out of water, onto dry land and could still feeling the undulations of the waves against her legs. She tipped a bit, not quite spilling into a couple walking past her.

"Sorry, sorry…" she mumbled at them. There was sticky warmth dribbling down the inside of her thigh.

_What….what…what…._

Little voices echoed in her head.

She couldn't find her car. Or her apartment. Or her head, for that matter. Her wrist felt like it'd been splintered into about eight thousand pieces.

"Angela?"

She turned her swaying head towards the voice. _What…what…what…_

It was Zack, his floppy hair forming a dull corona around his head. Her knees started to buckle. She tried to answer him, but her face felt sticky and immobile. Zack's voice was fuzzy in her ear, like he was far away or as if her ears were stuffed with cotton.

_I think I'm going to faint_ she mused, amazed that she would do something so…Lana Turner.

She fumbled her car keys out of her purse, which was wondrously still intact, unlike her skirt. There was a tear in it that let cold, stinging air onto the tops of her thighs and where her legs joined. She wasn't really aware of Zack running towards her, dropping a portable coffee cup as he went. She saw the liquid spill onto the street and suddenly his hand was at the center of her back, steadying her.

Angela shoved the keys into his other hand. His words were still oddly muffled in her head. "I can't find my car, Zack." She wasn't quite slurring her words, but they sounded off kilter in her head. As soon as she handed him the keys she remembered that Zack didn't drive.

She fainted.

***

Zack was terrified. He clung to the wheel of Angela's car, speeding down 15th Street towards the closest hospital he knew of, Washington Hospital Center. He's not sure what kind of car he's driving, only that it's old, but in pristine condition and a bright, lemon yellow. His dad had taught him to drive with a manual transmission one summer when he had taken it into his head that they needed more father/son time.

But that wasn't important. The important thing was that Angela was sitting in the passenger seat, unconscious and bleeding. He's seen the tear in her skirt and when he had lowered her into the car seat, it had become evident that she didn't have any underwear on.

Zack always thought rationally. But thinking rationally about this was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Angela had been raped. _Angela_ had been _raped_. His cold, authoritative, anthropological side cited thousands of years of human history setting a precedent. Why, months alone would be enough!

As he turned a corner onto Irving and the silhouette of the hospital loomed large in the sky, he tried to calm down. He was driving, something he had only done three times before in his life and never at this speed or in an unfamiliar car. But all of those things were insignificant to what was actually happening, what had happened.

He pulled up next to the curb (where no one was parked, thank God, if there was one) and threw the door open. He got out, jogging to the other side of the car. He carefully took Angela out. She fell against him, dead weight. He didn't know if he could carry her down the street to the emergency room. He didn't know if he was strong enough.

He tried to upright her, but she was out cold. This scared him even more then the driving had.

There was obvious blunt force trauma to her head. She could have a concussion, could be dying. He'd seen her eyes fluttering in the car and had turned the stereo up to almost full volume, which wasn't very high to begin with, trying to keep her conscious. It didn't look like it had worked.

***

Zack found he could carry her all the way to the hospital doors.

***

He waited while the doctors examined her. He'd put down all the information that he knew and guiltily looked through her purse for an insurance card. The doctor he'd spoken with had been brusque, wanting to get him out of the way, to get to his job. Zack understood this completely. He would have done the same.

He sat in a hard, uncomfortable chair in the waiting room, thumbing through old issues of _Scientific American_ and _Family Circle_ with watermarks on the covers. He tried to focus on the words, but they kept getting away from him. He just continued to replay the scene in front of the coffee shop, over and over.

_He walks out the door, de-caf medium in hand. He turns on the sidewalk, right not left (thank you so much universe, dr. brennan, god, agent booth, anything that ever was) and sees her falling onto a couple. And they don't even care. They brush her off and hurry along, just another story to tell or neglect when speaking to their friends (we were on our way to the theater and this drunk, bleeding woman slammed into us. nearly ruined my new coat.) she sees him and by some sweet coincidence she recognizes him and he rushes forward, wishing that he had a coat to wrap around her when he sees her torn clothes. She shoves the keys in his hands and says_

"Zack Addy?"

Zack looked up. It was the brusque doctor. He held a clipboard in his hand, peering suspiciously at Zack. "Ms. Montenegro is fine now. The injuries she sustained were lucky, to say the least. If she had been struck with the proper amount of force, she could be paralyzed or dead with that head injury. Mainly, what needs to be focused on will be the mental trauma."

Zack asked about the obvious radial fracture in her arm and if she had sustained any hip fractures either, particularly a femoral hip fracture. He breathed a sigh of relief at the doctor's curious 'no'. This meant that the attack had been particularly violent. But that couldn't possibly matter could it? Just one less physical injury, it's absence chalked up to pure luck.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

The doctor gave him a stern look. "Young man, I don't know if-" A nurse stepped up beside him. "Doctor, the young woman in 319 is asking for a Zack." The doctor simply sighed. "Well here he is. And just so you know young man, if you're planning on running off, I'd suggest highly against it. I plan on telling the police you were here." He stalked off. The nurse gave Zack a tired but kind look. "I'm sorry sweetie. Dr. Morgan isn't exactly the nicest person on Earth." She had a bit of a Southern lilt in her voice. She led him down the hall to an elevator and then to the third floor.

Room 319 was small, like most hospital rooms with only one occupant. Angela lay against her pillows, twelve stitches standing out against the skin on her forehead, like the outlines of teeth. Zack walked toward her, not sure what to say or do. She didn't say anything to him. She just reached her hand out to him. He took a step closer and reached back. He could see tears pooling in her eyes. "Zack…" she said quietly.

"I'm here," he replied, if only to reassure himself.

***

Zack had answered many questions in his relatively short life. Most of them had been about math. And almost every single one had been answered with his customary intellect and aplomb. He rarely, if ever, heard a question he could not give an answer for.

Except, of course, in English class. His teacher, Mr. Simpson would hound Zack with questions about the hidden meanings of things. What did the rats in Orwell's 1984 symbolize? Why was the main character of A Tale of Two Cities, the drunkard impersonator, named Carton?

Zack had never understood these questions. They were beyond facts, which were easy to understand. Facts were tangible and could be applied to real life. Simpson had despised Zack for this purpose alone. He had been a hateful man and a harsh grader. Zack could still remember, burning with shame, staring his first failing grade in the face. And all because of questions he couldn't answer because they simply failed to make sense.

It was this class and this feeling which sprang to mind when Angela asked, very quietly, almost chokingly, "Why me?" Zack had no answer to that. All he could do was sit there next to her, staring at the linoleum floor before him.

***

Angela tried not to panic every time someone or something moved. When the nurse came in to give her pain medication or when a family walked past, chatting amiably enough about Aunt Gertrude's STDs or whatever they were talking so loudly about, she felt ready to jump up and run. She could barely talk. Not from anything physical. But for the first time since she was seventeen years old being confronted about losing her virginity over summer vacation by her older brother, she felt shame. And just like that last time, this shame was forced on her.

Zack hadn't asked her any questions; he just sat in the chair that the nurse had brought in for him. She had asked him to talk, talk about anything, and just make a lot of noise. She wouldn't panic as much with something to distract her from anything happening outside her dank little room.

Someone had dropped a tray somewhere down the corridor and Angela let out a muffled scream. She clapped a hand on her mouth (which had hurt like hell) and had started to shake. Zack had been a little shocked by this, in the middle of a lecture on calcification. He scooted his chair closer to her bed and took her hand, the one attached to the fractured wrist ("technically it's a distal radius fracture" Zack had informed her), very gently, and held it for a moment. While it was comforting, it didn't change why she was in this hospital room. It didn't change anything. All it meant was that Zack was holding her hand, a hand attached to a broken wrist. One that had been summarily slammed on to a sink ledge when she had scratched the shit out of-

Angela gasped. She hadn't remembered that part. In fact, she hadn't remembered anything. The nurse had explained that the head injury could be at fault or that she could be suffering from post-traumatic memory loss. The last thing Angela could remember before seeing Zack on the street was leaving the Jeffersonian. But the thing was, it hadn't been that day. She could remember wearing different clothes then the ones she had gone out in. She had asked Zack about this and he had squinted, wracking his brain for an answer. She told him about the clothes she had been wearing and he sat for a moment, thinking. "Three days ago," he had finally said. "You were wearing that three days ago."

This had shocked her. Three days?

"What is it?" She looked up to see Zack staring at her, his eyes wide.

"I remembered something. Something about earlier tonight."

He looked at her expectantly. "I was in a bathroom," she said. "There was a sink. He had me…he had me bent over the sink. I scratched his face to get him away from me. He slammed my wrist into the sink ledge."

"If you scratched him," Zack began excitedly, "his skin could still be under your nails. I could take it back to the Jeffersonian and-"

"No!" Angela had almost shouted. The smile died off of Zack's face. "Why not? I don't-"

"Zack," Angela heaved a sigh. "I don't want _anyone_ at work to know about this. In an ideal situation, I wouldn't even tell you. But you found me and that's just the way it is. You know. And I know. And the police are going to know. But that's it. No one else."

Zack immediately replied with "I don't understand, why wouldn't you tell anyone? I thought that Dr. Brennan was your friend? What-"

Angela cut him off. "Zack. You couldn't understand."

"But I have an IQ of 190, there's almost nothing-"

"Just…just trust me. I don't want you to say anything to anyone. Promise."

"But-"

"_Promise!_"

Zack nodded. He was looking down at the floor, something Angela had noticed him doing whenever he felt incompetent or that he was completely out of his element. She suddenly felt terrible. He'd only been trying to help. But she imagined the looks of pity; Hodgins' and Booth's anger, Brennan's attempts at comforting her, Goodman insisting she take time off to "deal".

She didn't want to deal. She just wanted her life to go back to the way it had been. She'd have to come up with something that would explain away her injuries (a fall? Would anything explain it with a forensic anthropologist in her presence?). She would swear Zack to secrecy.

_Everything will be exactly the way it was_ she thought. But she knew, in her heart of hearts, that that would never happen.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends."_

_-Shirley MacLaine_

Angela called in with the flu for a week. When Brennan offered to visit her, Angela had vehemently protested. "They can spare me for a little while, but if you got this sick, everything would stop. Send Zack instead. He'll tell you how I am."

She felt guilty for lying to Brennan, but she felt as though she had been pissed and shat upon. She felt disgusting and afraid. She rarely left her apartment and when she did, she wore a baseball cap and dark glasses. She supposed she looked like one of those idiot celebrities, trying to hide in plain sight, but she didn't care. It made her feel safer.

She worried about going back to work with make up over her injuries and the cast on her arm. She couldn't think of an excuse until Brennan had called her unexpectedly during her one of her 'sick days'.

"Ange, are you not coming into work because you fell?"

Angela had no idea what to say. "It was Zack. He told me that you feel and broke your wrist and hit your head on concrete. I can't believe you tried something like skateboarding. Especially while intoxicated. That's very dangerous." Angela rolled her eyes at this, coming from a woman who had almost been shot by an FBI sniper. "That damage to your wrist could be permanent if they set it wrong at the hospital."

Silently, Angela thanked whatever God there was for Zack Addy and his ridiculous cover story. _I so owe him…Jesus, after the hospital and this? I should get him a damn parade._ She thought of Zack, sitting uncomfortably on a parade float, a paper crown on his head, bearing the words "King of the World" and in parenthesis (Fuck the Lab!), while cheering people threw confetti.

"Yeah, Bren. I was really, really embarrassed that I had gotten so drunk I climbed onto a skateboard. I mean, whatever happened to climbing onto a hot guy?" She stiffened at that last part, a brief flash of the last Friday evening barging into her head. There was a lot she couldn't remember still. The doctor had told her that she'd had five stitches put into her posterior fourchette, and having taken anatomy classes in art school, this painted an all to perfect picture of what had happened to her. It meant that part of her vagina was sewn up like a baseball because she'd been so torn up.

Brennan sighed. "I wish you had told me. You're always there for me. I feel like I should reciprocate more." Angela squeezed her eyes shut. She felt awful.

"Sweetie, I've got to go. I was in the middle of cooking my lunch when you called. Bye!" She hung up before Brennan could reply. The truth was, she had to go back to the hospital to view test results and have her facial stitches removed.

She donned a large black hoodie and a pair of cheap, drugstore sunglasses. On top of this she added a Boston Red Sox cap. Placing the cap squarely on her head, she grabbed her keys and opened the front door.

***

Zack watched from his station as Dr. Brennan talked on the phone with Angela. He hoped that she wouldn't be angry with him for making up an excuse. Brennan had not believed for one minute that Angela had actually gotten the flu. "She sounds fine on the phone!" Dr. Brennan had reiterated over and over.

But that wasn't what Zack was thinking about. He was thinking about how Dr. Brennan would look at Angela's wrist. How there would be questions. He thought furiously. Though his English teacher had hated him, Zack had still gotten by with a B+ in Creative Writing. The story about the skateboard was the first thing he had thought of. He felt guilty lying to Dr. Brennan but was secretly glad that it had only been her and not Booth or Hodgins. Zack knew that both of them would have seen through the story immediately.

Dr. Brennan returned to her station, a perplexed look on her face. "Zack?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

"You said that Angela had a distal radius fracture." Zack nodded. "Yes."

"What could she possibly be cooking with only one hand?" She said this more to herself, frowning.

Zack didn't know what to say to this. Or even if he should say anything. But she didn't say anything else to him. She kept the frown on her face however.

She suddenly spoke out, startling him. "She didn't run off to Canada or Mexico with that guy did she? I mean, I don't think she would tell me about that if she did. She knows how I feel about marriage."

Zack distractedly answered. "What guy?"

"That guy she was out with last Friday. I don't remember his name."

***

Angela hadn't expected this. She had expected an HIV positive result. An unwanted pregnancy. Even a case of Chlamydia.

But everything was negative. It was as if this giant, life-ruining event had left her unchanged. She _was_ the same as before.

_So why don't I feel the same as before?_ she wondered.

She thanked the doctor for his time and left the examination room and bam, smacked right into a nurse in the hall. The woman dropped her clipboard, which Angela bent to retrieve. She winced as the stitches between her legs pulled tight. She handed the clipboard back to the nurse, whom she recognized as the woman who had brought Zack into her room as soon as she'd asked for him. Angela had guessed this was against hospital protocols and had been doubly grateful.

"Ms. Montenegro?" the nurse gave her a hesitant smile. "I was hoping I would catch you. I knew that you would be here to get your test results. I'm Claire." She held her hand out for Angela to shake.

Angela took it. "Nice to see you again Claire."

Claire smiled at her. "I wanted to talk to you about something. After the police left, you just dashed out of here. My cousin, Bea, works at a rape-counseling center in Alexandria. I thought that you might-"

Angela cut her off. "I don't want to-"

"-just want to call the hotline they have set up." Claire finished. "I know that it's difficult to ask for help sometimes. Here's the number. You can call; you can throw it in the garbage. Do what you want." She turned and walked away. Angela was left there, clutching the number.

_Do what you want_.

The words rang in her ears.

***

Her first day back in the lab was a disaster.

She had stayed awake the entire night before, unable to shake the fear that she would walk into work and be immediately fired. As all truly deep fears and worries are, it was completely irrational and totally gripping.

She eventually drifted off around three, waking up at six and feeling almost as bad as when she'd gone to sleep. She dragged herself through her morning routine, worried about driving herself. Driving to the hospital a few days earlier had been hell. She could barely control her speed, going slowly and then very quickly, afraid the sky itself was going to fall on her. This morning was no different.

She hated being in the car now. The ceiling felt too low and the road in front of her seemed to be constantly at an angle, giving her an unending sense of vertigo. She had trouble breathing feeling as though the roof of the car was getting lower and lower. She hunched closer to the wheel, trying to keep away from the ceiling and maintain her grip at the same time. _The earth is made of glass_, she thought. She had heard it somewhere, but had no idea what it meant in context, only that at this particular moment, it was exactly right.

***

Zack anxiously watched the door. Dr. Brennan and Booth had brought in a new case the day before that he and Hodgins were supposed to be working on. Hodgins had already been by three times to tell him to start working. Zack would answer "Sure," and then continue watching the door, holding the victim's skull in one hand, his cotton swab in the other.

When Angela finally walked in and saw him, he turned quickly back to his work. But she'd seen him looking. Would she be angry? The stitches in her forehead were gone but she still had the cast. Hodgins came over from his station. "Dude. What happened to Angela's arm?"

Zack continued to pour over the ocular foramen. "Distal radius fracture." He tried to act as uninterested as possible, willing Hodgins away. "Well how'd she get it?" Hodgins asked impatiently. Just then, Angela walked up to them. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"

She smiled, but Zack could see the strain behind it. It was unnerving, knowing other people's business.

Hodgins smiled back at her. "Hey Ange. Feeling better?"

Angela kept smiling. "Wouldn't be back at work if I wasn't." There was a pause. "I need to talk to Zack." As she said this, she grabbed his wrist with her good hand and yanked Zack in the direction of her office.

Zack felt this didn't bode well for anyone involved. He turned back to see Hodgins with a surprised grin on his face. He dropped a wink at Zack that left Zack thoroughly confused.

***

"I just wanted to thank you Zack. I know that this has been hard for you." Angela could not look him in the eyes. She felt an overwhelming sense of vertigo. Zack stood there, waiting expectantly.

She wondered what it was he wanted. Suddenly she was completely sure that all he wanted was to fuck her. He was just playing the sweet, innocent, Good Samaritan so that he could wait until she didn't suspect and then-

Angela closed her eyes, trying to pry these poisonous thoughts from her mind. "Leave, Zack. Right now."

"Angela-"

"Just. Go." She said it with what she perceived to be absolute finality. Zack gave her a concerned look (one which made her want to tear out her hair and scream) and complied, leaving her alone in her office.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend."_

-Albert Camus

At first, being back wasn't so bad.

Angela would focus on her drawing, letting the world drift away as she always did. All she could see was the paper before her, the face, the tiny shadows that formed around eyes and the cheek bones that stood out like ice burgs in the sea.

And then something would snap. Someone would walk in to speak with her or there would be a noise from somewhere in the lab. She would start, and whip her head around, suspicious of every dark corner, every hint of movement.

Zack would bring her lunch from wherever she asked. She had become a bit of a shut in, barely seeing the others for days. Brennan would push her about it from time to time. "I just need some space, sweetie," she'd always answer.

"Space from _wha_t?" Brennan demanded. Booth asked no questions, just looked at her, his eyes saying that he knew what had happened. He seemed to be waiting for her to crack. She made a point to avoid him as much as possible. She felt that the only way her secret was safe was staying with the only person who knew.

***

Zack would stay at the Jeffersonian with her, sometimes late into the night, taking the bus back to Hodgins', operating on the pretense that he was working on his doctorate. She overheard Hodgins telling Booth that one night Zack had come home with no shoes on: he'd been mugged after getting of at the wrong stop. Angela refused to let him take the bus after that, giving him driving lessons in her bright yellow 'Stang. From time to time, she even encouraged him to sleep on her couch.

One night when he was doing so, Angela had a panic attack. She was sure that Zack had been the person who raped her and that now he was lying in wait, banking on her going to sleep so that he could do it again. She tried to convince herself that this was impossible. Zack had _saved_ her! But she couldn't shake it and pictured it in her head: Zack throwing her against a wall in a night club so that she hit her head and, when she was dazed, tearing her skirt off, ripping it in the process and raping her violently over the edge of one of the sinks. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hand over her mouth. She dug her nails into the skin on her cheeks, trying to push the vision away. Finally, she got up and walked to the couch in her apartment's living room.

Zack was asleep, the blanket pulled up to his eyes. She put her hand on him, shaking him gently awake. "Zack," she said quietly. He rolled over to look at her. "Angela." He squinted at the clock on the microwave across the countertop in the kitchen. "It's 3am." His tone probably wasn't as accusatory as she heard it in her head. "I'm sorry, Zack…it's just that…" She suddenly realized how ridiculous her question was. It would be like asking Booth if he had raped her. Or Hodgins. Or Dr. Goodman.

"It's nothing." She shook her head and turned to go back to bed. "Alright." Zack gave her a confused look and rolled over to go back to sleep. He turned back to face her again. "Are you sure?"

Anglea nodded.

*

It was just enough to shake her out of her stupor.

She had thrown away the number that the nurse had given her weeks before, so she flipped through the Yellow Pages looking for it. She didn't know if anyone would answer so late (or early), but she knew she wasn't going to sleep, even with Zack lying in the other room, hell, especially with him there. And there it was in Alexandria, only thirty minutes driving from the Jeffersonian. She took a deep breath.

iI can do this…/i

She picked up the phone.

*

Zack woke up around six. He expected Angela to still be asleep.

He made coffee in his jeans and the t-shirt he'd been wearing under a loud Hawaiian shirt. The cold tile felt unpleasant under his bare feet. He pulled down two mugs out of one of the cabinets. It was strange to him that he was getting to know Angela's apartment so well. He slept there on average about 3.41111113 times a week. He'd calculated after Hodgins had asked, slightly perturbed, slightly teasingly, if they were dating.

This had made Zack uncomfortable and almost responsible for what Angela was going through. Angela walked into the kitchen, abruptly ending this train of thought. She looked tired now, more so even then usual.

"Hey, Zack," she sighed. "Good morning Angela." Zack threw her a sidelong glance. "Did you sleep?" Most of the time he didn't ask questions like that. He didn't want to make it worse for her then it already was. Angela smiled wanly. "That bad huh? I must look like I've been run over by a truck."

"Just a bike."

Zack stared at her, openmouthed. He hadn't meant to say it. "I…uh…I…."

Angela snorted. "Wow, Zack." She smiled at him. "Pour me a cup of coffee will you?"

All of it, though so different from their life _before_, as Zack thought of it, seemed almost like a return to normalcy. There were very few moments like this between them now, but he knew they were the best ones, the ones he would remember least when all of this was over, if it ever did end. He knew that they would remember the times when Angela couldn't even stand to look at him or when he had stayed up all night because she was afraid to turn the lights out and he hadn't wanted her to be alone on a night like that. It was like his memories of high school: the teasing, the rejection, the humiliation were all that remained of it in his mind, even though he knew there had been shining, golden moments then with his friends, though most of them just blurred together like a film he had slept through.

***

Later, when they had arrived at the Jeffersonian, Zack immediately broke off from Angela, telling her to have a good day, that he would see her later. He wanted to avoid looks from Hodgins, who would know that he hadn't been home the night before and didn't want the evidence of that to spread.

He went to his station and looked over his shoulder to make sure that Angela was in her office and couldn't see him or what he was doing. He knew she would be furious if she found out. All of a sudden, someone clapped him on the shoulder. "So. Another night away from the house?" It was Hodgins, ripe for teasing. Zack quickly shoved the papers in his hand into an open drawer at his station. Hodgins didn't notice.


	4. Chapter 4

_Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.  
_-Christopher Robin to Pooh

She hadn't made the call.

Well, she had but she had hung up so quickly she might as well not have made it at all. Just the idea of someone speaking to her with that much pity and understanding…What the hell did they understand anyway? Zack didn't talk to her that way. But now she was regretting it. She had been up the rest of the night, having a staring contest with the phone. She'd considered waking up Zack to ask him for help, to watch her do it and then leave once she had started talking, but the way things worked between them now, this never ending, feigned ignorance of the secret that now seemed to dominate both of their lives, would never permit that. She looked out the glass in her office door, over to the Forensic Platform. Hodgins was swabbing a brown and slimy skeleton, while Brennan talked with Zack. It all looked so…normal. For them. at least. And she was sitting in here, watching them all work. She stood up and strode out of her office. Maybe her head wasn't held high, but dammit, this was still something.

***

As she walked toward the Platform, Booth arrived and scooted up the steps. "So, Bones, what have we got? Murder? Suicide? Accident?"

"I have nothing conclusive so far." Brennan said it very finally, the way she always did. Everyone turned to look at Angela as she walked up the steps and slid her ident card. She forced a smile. "Hey, Ange," Brennan stared. Well not really. She just kept looking for a second too long.

"I…I came to get my X-rays." She managed a brighter smile to try and relax everyone. Hodgins smiled back at her. Brennan handed her the X-rays, giving her a mildly suspicious look. Angela took them from her, forced a very strained smile and skittered back to the comforting enclosure of her office. She didn't see Brennan follow her with her eyes.

***

"I can conclusively say that this woman committed suicide." Brennan sighed and peeled off her latex gloves. "I'll tell Booth." Zack's ears immediately perked up. "I, uh, I can do that Dr. Brennan. You look like you could use some rest." Brennan gave Zack a wan half-smile. "Thank you, Zack but-"

Zack had already set off towards the upper deck, where Booth sat, drinking a cup of coffee and playing solitaire.

"Did you get the notes I left for you?" Zack nodded. "Thank you, Agent Booth. Have you found anything…?" Booth shook his head morosely. "Still kind of a dead end. But with this whole secret keeping thing, which, don't get me wrong, I understand to the extent that I can-" It was Zack's turn to shake his head. "Angela made me promise not to say anything to anyone. She's still very upset about this." He sighed heavily. "I just don't understand why she didn't take the logical course of action, calling the police and reporting this in the first place! I offered to get the tissue under her nails analyzed, the rape kit, anything!"

Booth set his coffee cup down on the low glass table in front of him. "You should be glad you don't understand Zack. And you probably never will. Just another reason for you to count your blessings." He stood and swathed himself in the F.B.I. standard black of his coat. "Anything else you needed to tell me?"

Zack nodded. "Suicide. No investigation needed." Booth sighed and walked away, leaving Zack alone, his hard heels clacking against the cold floor.

***

Angela flipped open her cell phone and hit redial. She listened to the mechanical tone reverberating in her ear, almost as loudly as her heartbeat. "Hello, Alexandria Rape Clinic?"

She couldn't speak. She tried to dislodge the words from her throat. iI was raped./i

But they wouldn't come. "Hello? Hello? It's alright if you aren't ready to say anything, but please, at least let me know you're there." The voice was pleasant and not at all irritated. Angela hung up for the seventh time that day.

She looked at the clock. It was almost time for her to go collect Zack to either take him home with her or drive him to Hodgins'. She had been painting in a corner of her office. She liked working in the lab. It provided her with much needed security and privacy, two things she had been yearning for the past month. No one but Zack stood on the empty forensic platform.

She approached him. He looked up at her and smiled, a little sadly at her. She stopped, standing in front of him and tried to dislodge the words again.

_I was raped_.

She opened her mouth. "Zack."

"Yes?"

"I-"

He looked at her, expectantly. "I was-" He kept looking at her as if he had all the time and patience in the world for her to do this. And she understood, finally, that after saying it once, she could say it a million times again with the greatest of ease. She steeled herself, loving Zack for a moment, for just being himself. "Zack," she started over.

"I was raped."

He looked a little taken aback. "I know, Angela." She must have looked upset because then he reached his hand out, offering it to her. She took it. It was a little awkward for the both of them, but Angela could not remember feeling so loved for a long time.

***

Angela doesn't even ask Zack where he will stay that night. His toothbrush and a change of underwear are already in his bag (and a few pairs are admittedly in her laundry). Both have noticed but neither had acknowledged that it's been nearly two weeks since Zack slept in a bed.

When they arrived at Angela's apartment, she thanked him and went into her room, locking the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Love is shown in your deeds, not in your words."_

_-Fr. Jerome Cummings_

The most prolific exchanges in life are wordless. We find ourselves confronted with the faces of others, unable to match the ferocity with which you hear them.

Language is a prison.

Angela stared him in the face, tears in her eyes, her teeth bared at him.

"How could you do this to me?"

***

_48 hours earlier_

Zack noticed that things were going better.

Angela told him about the phone call and how, when she'd finally made it, it had been nothing like she'd imagined. She told him about the therapy sessions that she'd been to, the advice she'd been given and the other rape survivors she had met at the Center.

Zack nodded the whole time, not mentioning his shared belief with Dr. Brennan that Psychology was pure guess work and nothing even remotely resembling science.

Things at the lab were going more and more smoothly. Dr. Brennan's suspicions about both Angela and Zack's strange behavior the last two months had be quelled by Booth, who, Zack hoped, was still looking for whoever had hurt Angela.

Even though she was getting better, Zack still spent close to every night at Angela's. He didn't really think of it as _at Angela's_ so much as _with Angela_. They had even started spending the weekends together, going out when Angela felt like she could and staying in, watching movies, cooking, playing old board games like kids or just reading.

Occasionally Angela would read passages aloud to him. He would remember later that she was reading The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. He couldn't remember the passage in and of itself but could remember simultaneously loving and hating it. He wanted to ask her why she was reading a book about death, about grief. It didn't make sense to him that she would immerse herself this way.

But he never asked.

***

They're sitting next to each other on the couch like it's any other night.

Angela was reading The Bell Jar for what feels like the first time, even though she's read it twice before. On both occasions she has cried. This time though, she sits stoically dry eyed. She glanced at Zack out of the corner of her eye. He was reading, off all things, _The Dark Phoenix Saga_, something she viewed as totally apt and completely bizarre at the same time. Things had been going better at the clinic for her. Her counselor, Rayanne, tells her that with every day and every breath that she can allow herself to be brave, to live, to read, to paint, to have sex, to be a friend, to fall in love. Angela loves her, despite the slightly cheesy sentiment. She has always believed that the clichéd and cheesy are around for a reason: they are the truth.

She was reading the last chapter of The Bell Jar when the Pheonix catches her eye. Again, an overripe, clichéd metaphor if ever there was one, but she can remember when her mother called her a firecracker and how she always used to feel like she was on fire: heat and light and flow. She looked down at the page in front of her:

_I am, I am, I am_.

Zack turned to her. "I think I am finally understanding the feministic symbolism in Jean Grey that you mentioned to me earlier." She looked at him for a moment. "Angela?" She quickly put her hands on either side of his neck and pulled him toward her. She kissed him, roughly, sharply, their teeth meeting behind their lips. She will later akin it to a crash, but it doesn't matter.

Angela hasn't kissed someone for almost three months. She didn't know if it was completely stupid, but she wanted to believe that she's better so badly, that she would do this, push away her life preserver, her only friend, just to feel like everything is back to normal.

She took a breath and pulled away.

She took her hands away from Zack's face.

He opened his mouth.

"Are you alright?"

She opened her mouth not sure of what she would say next. Her only real instinct at the moment is to ask Zack to kiss her again. The first time felt too fast, she didn't know how to feel or act. But Zack was staring at her, his eyes wide and sort of flushed. He looked totally perplexed by this new information.

She kissed him again, this time a little less sloppily, trying to feel like herself again.

"Not yet."

***

Zack spent the next four days in a haze of lust, confusion and rudimentary algebra. Algebra was always comforting to him, ever since he'd learned it at the tender age of nine.

_(2r-xy = xy__2__)_

He had no idea how to approach Angela anymore. Everything he came with sounded either contrived or utterly inappropriate. He didn't understand why she had kissed him; it had probably _(21.78%)_ nothing to do with sexual attraction. So why then? Previously, he would have said Angela had probably _(68.3%) _only done it to try it, to have an experience. But everything had changed now.

_(3(x/2) + y__2__=8)_

He had read a few textbooks about Psychology in lieu of Angela's…_(condition? accident? 8x-r__3__=r+x?)_ and had read several accounts of victims being using their sexuality to take control of their bodies again. This didn't make a lot of sense to him, but he did understand the element of choice involved. He did dwell on the thought (well, not dwell so much as brood) that Angela had just used him because he was there.

_(2x+y=-6)_

_(4x+2y=8)_

He had returned to Hodgins' garage with his Firefly boxset (she loved Jayne, he loved Zoë) and his NetFlix subscription (they had watched _Red Dawn _and _Casablanca_). He took solace in the reveal of the Final Cylon, Captain Picard's seemingly endless victories and tried to forget that Angela had ever kissed him.

_(no solution)_

***

Angela tried to adjust to the empty apartment, but it wasn't the same anymore. It had seemed more crowded with Zack, like there was just enough room for both of them to breath, but more then enough still.

She would walk into the small kitchen and find that there was no one there, and that the blanket was still folded neatly on the couch, the pillow delicately resting on top. This sight made her chest ache. She was terrified that Zack would never come back.

She talked with her counselors and her group at the rape center (she was very proud about having graduated to group therapy, but had no one to tell now that Zack was…gone? At home?) Each of them had told her that reaching out in a bold physical manner could be scary for another person and for her. It was Grace, a fifteen-year-old girl in her group (high school prom, her friend's date, the bathroom of a nice hotel in downtown DC) who suggested that she might be in love with Zack. "It's hard not to fall in love with someone when they know everything about you." She folded her arms across her chest after saying this, hunching her shoulders slightly, as if trying to hide the mumbled words between her breasts and her forearms.

Angela didn't want to think about being _in love_, especially after what had just happened. Her mother's voice chimed through her head: _Angie, you only ever fall in love when you least expect it._ She had always thought her mother was so clichéd with her sayings and cigarettes and gossip. Maybe, though, that didn't stop her from being right, at least just this once. It wasn't hard for Angela to believe that she was falling in love with Zack, though for her it was nothing short of terrifying.

But she was still Angela Montenegro after all of this, wasn't she? Wasn't she starting to put all of this behind her?

***

"Angela kissed me."

Zack fought the urge to turn and run away from Hodgins' work station.

"_What?_" Hodgins looked up from the microscope. "Are you sure you want to talk about this now? And do you mean she _just_ kissed you? As in, within the last week?" Hodgins looked deeply perplexed.

"Well…we were sitting on her couch…reading…and she kissed me. Twice."

"So? So what?"

Zack sighed, exasperated. "So, why did she kiss me?"

Hodgins rolled his eyes. "Are you serious? She likes you! You practically live with her now!"

Booth walked up to them, unsmiling as usual. "Zack. Need a word."

He pulled Zack over to one side of the forensic platform, near Dr. Brennan's office. "I think I found the guy who hurt Angela."

"You think you found him?"

"Yes. But I'd need to take her statement before I turn it over to the local police, which is what I'm going to have to do."

Zack shook his head, adamantly. "She won't do that. She doesn't even know that I talked to you about this."

"Talked to him about what?" They both turned to see Angela and Brennan walking out of Brennan's office. "Zack?" Angela turned towards him, her face falling. "Did you…?"

Zack looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Angela."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "How could you do this to me?"


	6. Chapter 6

"_Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love."_

_-John LeCarre_

Angela was hit by a wave of nausea so strong her knees felt weak.

"Angela? What are they-" Brennan began but Angela pushed away from her, holding her arm over her mouth. She took four quick strides away from all of them and threw up all over the floor. She kept dry heaving, all of her muscles roiling and aching beneath her skin. Almost everyone in the lab was staring at her.

She felt a hand at the center of her back, between her shoulder blades. She turned to see Zack. He took her face between his hands and, very lightly, blew on her forehead. A fresh outpouring of tears started to run down her cheeks.

"Will somebody please take me home?" Her voice cracked a bit. She couldn't look at Zack, not right now. Brennan immediately stepped forward. "I will." She helped Angela up, giving both her friend and Zack a curious stare.

***

They sat in Angela's car in silence.

"You know," Brennan began, "you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

Angela stared out the windshield, mostly at the trees as they rolled by. She didn't have anything to say. She just wanted to lie in bed and die, as middle school as that sounded. They continued to drive along in silence and Angela felt more and more like an hysterical seventh-grader. "I'm sorry, Bren."

"For what?"

Angela sighed. "For being so…I don't know. Hysterical."

"You aren't hysterical at all. On the contrary, I find you to be incredibly calm considering your strong reaction to Zack at the Jeffersonian." Brennan continued her slightly reckless driving, not looking at Angela. "I'm sure that Booth will tell you Bren. I just don't think I can. Not right now." She closed her eyes and tried to remember something good, something soothing but all she could see was the bathroom sink, rushing up to meet her face.

***

Hodgins pushed him against one of the rails on the forensic platform. "What the hell did you do to Angela?"

Booth eased them apart, a very bemused look on his face. "Look, dammit, both of you have work to do. Just because Dr. Brennan isn't here doesn't mean you guys can act like assholes. Now I will get Dr. Goodman down here to fire your ass," he looked at Hodgins, "And strip you of your internship or whatever." He looked at Zack. "Now I need to have a conversation with you." He half dragged, half marched Zack off the platform, away from the bulk of the people in the lab.

"You _never_ and let me repeat that so I am perfectly, one hundred percent clear, _never_ told me that Angela didn't know that you had told me." Zack swallowed and focused on Booth's shoes (_a perfect hundred percent is statistically impossible_).

"I just wanted to help."

He mumbled it to the floor. "I didn't know what else to do." Booth took a step back from him. "Yeah. Yeah, I kind of knew that. I just…she trusts you so much Zack. You shouldn't play around with something like that."

"I love her." Still discussing this with the floor. Booth sighed. He put his hands on his hips and looked from side to side, as if to check on their relative isolation. "Isn't this something you should be talking about with her?" Zack shrugged. "Not anymore."

Booth sighed again, the look on his face slightly exasperated and completely full of pity. "Well, then I guess you should, just…you know….go tell her how you feel. And apologize. A lot. Then maybe…" he looked Zack over, feeling even sorrier for the geeky looking little kid. He patted his shoulder, open palmed. "Maybe she'll forgive you."

Zack looked at Booth, in the eye this time. "Who was it?" "Guy named Trent Hermann. He was there at the Aqua the night Angela was raped and I've got two eye-witnesses who saw him follow her into that bathroom." He showed Zack a picture, a skeletal, brown-haired, empty-eyed man. He could have been anybody. _Any-body. Any. Body._ Zack's fists clenched at his sides.

"Are you going to arrest him?" Booth nodded. "I have to get a warrant through Caroline first. But after that, it should fall together pretty easily. He's a repeat offender and is known for drugging and assaulting women rather discreetly. There's no way to know how many girls have gotten it from this creep."

Zack wondered if Angela would describe herself as 'discreetly assaulted'.

***

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brennan was sitting with Angela on her front steps. "I'm sorry, Bren, but it just would have…" Brennan looked at her patiently, expectantly. _No answer I give will be enough for her_Angela thought, suddenly exhausted.

"If I had told you or told anyone, it would have made it too real. Not something I could let go of." Angela paused. "It was like if I thought about it at all I was drowning."

Brennan pursed her lips and frowned a bit. "I assume you are speaking metaphorically, with the drowning…and I don't understand. But that doesn't mean I think you made the wrong decision, Ange. I think that…under the incredibly horrible circumstances, you did the best that you could. And how I feel about your actions is totally irrelevant."

They continued to sit there, until the sun set and the sky lit up first yellow, then pink, then purple, then deeper and deeper blue.

***

When Brennan finally left, calling a cab and leaving the lemon yellow 'Stang, Angela went into her building and up to her apartment. She opened the door and was immediately confronted with the sheer emptiness. She saw a large Zack shaped hole in the space. She turned on her heel, gripping her keys tightly in her hand and hurried to the car. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Zack's number.

It rang.

It rang again.

She heard a click and a sharp intake of breath. "Angela?"

"Zack, where are you?"

"I'm with Booth."

Angela frowned for a moment. "What are you doing with Booth?"

"I'd rather not say right now…I'll tell you when I see you. We're in Ivy City, a few blocks away-"

"From the Echo. You found him didn't you?" Angela gripped both the phone and the door handle tightly. "Angela, you shouldn't-"

But she had already hung up. She got into the car, starting it and gunning the engine. She was already gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Hodgins picked her up from the police station

He took her to a bar. Her vodka up sat acidly in her stomach, almost nausea-inducing in combination with the day.

***

She had shown up to the Echo, not knowing what she was going to do once she got there. She had gotten to the crime scene line when two police officers one male and short, one female and slender approached her. "Angela Montenegro?"

She'd answered in the affirmative. "You need to come with us ma'am."

"Why, where are you taking me?"

The slender female cop looked at the short male one. "We're taking you to the station for questioning." "Questioning about what?" Angela knew perfectly well what for. She was playing for time, wanting to avoid such a brutal event for as long as possible. She'd acknowledged the event, acknowledged her feelings…but to actually have to answer questions was something else entirely. "Do I have to?" The female cop nodded sadly. She seemed genuinely sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, but we need to question you further. Agent Booth gave us most of his records of your interviews but we need more. I'm sorry Ms. Montenegro."

Angela's shoulders slumped a little. She didn't want to go, but it seemed like she didn't have a choice.

***

"So…. how are things with you and Zack?" Hodgins asked her. She gave him a look. "That's none of your business Jack." She took another sip of her drink, wincing a little at the way it burned her mouth. She hadn't had any alcohol in months and she was worried that even this little bit might get her drunk.

Brennan had drunkenly informed her on one of their abortive club outings that physical tolerance for alcohol only really lasted four days.

She took another sip.

***

"Can you tell me which man assaulted you?"

The cold black and white of the line up. Six men standing side by side holding their numbers. _And the winner is…_

"Number 4. It's number 4."

There had been no sign of Zack or Booth. The interview was short and nowhere near as awful as Angela had imagined. She told them about the gaps in her memory, told them which hospital carried the records of her injuries and the sequence of events in the evening.

She couldn't believe that it was over so fast. Time usually seemed extremely honeyed when she thought back to that day: seconds turned to minutes, turned to hours, turned to days. Then she would shake out of it and barely a few seconds would have passed.

***

"Hey, I'm just asking." Hodgins looked at her, hurt. "Zack _is_ my friend you know, I do care about him." Angela drinks the rest of the vodka, swiftly. She doesn't know what to say. Zack is…well, Zack is Zack and she's Angela and in what world was this supposed to happen?

"Look, he hasn't told me or anything," Hodgins paused and looked down. " But I'm pretty sure that he's in-"

"Stop." Angela set her cup down. "I can't talk about this. Not now. Not after-" "Not after what? Not after he's slept on your couch every night just so you wouldn't feel alone? Not after he basically kept your secret-"

She turned angrily to him. "Until he didn't. He told Booth. He promised me he'd never tell _anyone_!" People in the bar were starting to look at them now. Angela realized that she was speaking very loudly. She sighed and put her drink down.

"Look, Jack, I just had an extremely difficult day. Extremely. Difficult. So what I'd like right now is to go back to the Echo, pick up my car and go _home_." She got up to go to the car, leaving a five on the bar. Hodgins followed her quickly. "Angela, I'm really sorry. I just….I worry about the guy. Zack's really…well, he's Zack. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him. And since you and him have gotten close it seems like he's this whole new person, like he's less like an alien."

"Zack is not an alien." Angela spat back. She was still completely furious with Jack for bringing this up at all. She needed time and space, things that, for some reason, no one wanted to give her.

***

Angela gratefully collapsed against the closed door of her apartment. She locked it and turned around. She did miss Zack. Usually around now, she'd be unable to get to sleep (she'd noted with some alarm after Hodgins dropped her off that it was closing in on one AM in her part of the world) and Zack would be sitting with her, feigning interest in whatever film she'd put on to stave off boredom, panic or 'existential grimness' as she liked to call it, jokingly.

But he had enjoyed them when she really thought about it. He'd thought she had amazing taste in films. He had even said so one day, while he was cooking dinner when she couldn't even get up off the couch. And that was how she saw them now: sitting on the couch in the evening, watching a film together, talking about why film was important, something Zack struggled to understand and that she was ridiculously passionate about. She remembered the first time they'd kissed and Zack sleeping on the sofa and walking her to her car after work. And bringing her lunch. And being as kind as he could, all the time, if possible.

Angela realized she was going to cry. There were tears standing in her eyes. She sat down on the couch, not believing how oblivious she had been all this time. Zack was in love with her. She'd ignored it this entire time. She hadn't wanted to know. Knowing was too hard and lately that had been something Angela hadn't been doing.

She put her hands over her face, covering her eyes. _No! I am not going to sit here and get weepy about this!_ She stood up and looked at the clock. 1:15AM.

_Well, it's too late to do anything right now. So the best thing to do now is to sleep and be ready tomorrow, _Angela thought. She went into her bedroom, and lay down, falling into exhausted sleep almost immediately.

***

Zack lay in bed, thinking back.

He had always imagined what he might do if he met the man who hurt Angela. He'd imagined being heroic, throwing things, beating him up. Not that Zack had ever been in a fight before. Though from a logical standpoint, fighting didn't seem so difficult.

It was hard for him to be this angry. He could literally list off on one hand the times he had been furious before these last few months. Now it seemed like every day there was a fresh wave of anger, this almost physical sensation of the _need_ for revenge, for some kind of compensation for the hell that had sprung up around Angela, a hell he'd willingly gone into.

It was totally maddening to have been completely helpless, to have only been a "forensic consultant", to have Booth make the arrest, while that guy had cracked wise about hurting Angela.

Booth had told him not to do anything, no matter how upset he got: this was not a federal case, not yet, and anything Zack did would be left to the local police to deal with. So Zack had bitten his tongue and clenched his fists in his pockets and gone home, because really there had been nothing else for him to do.

When he went home, he got into bed and hated himself a little more.

***

The next day, Angela woke up early. Her sleep was less disturbed then usual, but the toll of the previous day had taken a lot out of her and left her exhausted. At 8 AM she snapped out of sleep. She didn't waste any time lying in bed. She needed to talk to Zack. She got up and got into the shower.

She squirted some shampoo into her open palm and stepped under the warm water. As she soaped her hair, she realized how angry she still was. Zack had broken a promise he'd made to her, but at the same time, he had done it to help her. She thought back on everything she knew about Zack: the awkwardness, the social inabilities, his lack of self-confidence, the fact that Naomi from Paleontology was only the second woman he'd ever slept with; it didn't make it excusable, but it made it a lot more understandable for her.

She was still angry, she wouldn't deny it, and if she was _really_ honest with herself, Angela realized she was still furious.

But the thing of it was, she didn't _want_ to be furious. Usually when someone made her angry, she was fine with it. She'd always viewed anger as a healthy reaction to an unhealthy situation. Now, she just felt like she was a frustrated little girl again, angry to no point and purpose. Zack knew that he had hurt her. Zack probably felt horrible for doing so, Zack would probably do anything to get her to forgive him, but still, it persisted, whispering in her ear about broken trust, a nagging gut-punch of disbelief that wouldn't let go of her.

Angela began to cry, her tears hidden by the water streaming down her face.

***

She avoided him until after work. She didn't want to cause another scene; especially after the meeting she and Goodman had had in his office this morning. He had, as delicately as possible, offered her an extended vacation with pay.

She had flatly refused, stating that she had been able to function for the last few months quite productively and didn't feel that any kind of change in her routine would be helpful. "I just want to keep my life going," she'd said and now, oh how she regretted it. Because now, Zack wouldn't speak to her. She'd caught him staring from time to time throughout the day, but he didn't approach her, didn't look at her directly and seemed to be avoiding _her_ even while she avoided him!

Angela did avoidance better then anyone. She knew how to make it seems as though she was avoiding no one, behaving naturally while avoiding someone like the Black Plague. She knew that she was almost in the clear as she looked at the clock. It was 6pm. Her work was done, her keys were in her pocket, Brennan was happily occupied with some poor sap who'd been jammed into the H-VAC system at a local high school, Dr. Goodman had gone home and she hadn't seen Zack for the past hour, which meant he was in Limbo, sorting and studying.

She stepped out of her office, walking quickly, her head slightly bowed. She started towards the exit, ready to skirt the platform, open the doors and bound down the hall before anyone could catch her.

What happened was, as she turned the corner of the forensics platform, she practically crashed into Zack, which would have been catastrophic, considering the skull he was carrying on a steel tray. They stared at each other, not meeting each other's eyes, both struggling to speak.

"I…uh, well…um…uh…"

Angela forced a smile. "Bye!"

She turned away from Zack, shocked at her reaction. She felt incredibly mean and incredibly stupid.

She turned to see if Zack was still standing there, only to catch sight of his back as he walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

Zack delicately placed the skull above the C1 vertebra. He looked down over the entire structure. There were no missing bones; everything was in its place, right down to the distal phalanx. He'd done his job to a degree of perfection that anyone who didn't work in the Medico-Legal Lab would refer to as anal. Zack preferred to think of it as "thorough".

But now that it was done, his concentration was completely broken. He had nothing to focus on and the disappointment of the evening came rushing back. He had assumed that Angela wouldn't want to speak to him, but the way she had practically run away from him made it seem as though she hated him. He wanted to call her, to go to her apartment, to see her. He could barely stand the thought of her hating him.

_Perhaps if I explain…_ he thought, but then remembered why she was angry. He'd done something that she had explicitly told him never to do and, no matter what the circumstances, he'd broken his promise to her and betrayed the trust she'd put in him.

"Zack, what are you doing?"

Zack turned around to see Booth leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

"Working on Mr. Pomeroy's reconstruction and inspecting any bone-"

Booth sighed angrily and stood up straight. "No, I mean, what are you doing about Angela?" Zack stared at him. "I'm leaving her alone. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. She…she doesn't want me…she's angry with me. And she has every right to be. What I did…well it was unforgivable." Zack turned away from Booth, not wanting him to see what a struggle it was to keep his face blank.

"That's bullshit."

Zack could feel Booth staring into him. "You tried to help her-"

"I broke a promise!"

Zack had never in a million years dreamed that he would ever yell at Booth. Booth was the guy who beat him up in high school a hundred times for not letting him cheat off his Calculus test. Booth was impressive and carried a gun. Booth was a jock who had probably slept with lots of women and never had issues like this. But Booth was giving him a sympathetic look now, as if he understood exactly how Zack felt.

"She loves you Zack. It's all over her face every time you're together. You're not an idiot. You know that." Zack didn't say anything.

Booth threw his hands in the air and sighed, irritably. "Look, I 'm just trying to help you. If you don't want my help, fine. Stay here with Mr. Pomeroy!" He turned and left Zack staring at the skeleton spread out before him.

*

Angela sat at home alone.

She was watching _Eden Log_, a French science-fiction film she'd rented in Zack's absence. She loved it, but the movie felt very distant, as if she'd watched it several times already. She got up from her spot on the couch and walked into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and stared into it. She pushed the door closed. She wasn't hungry.

She stopped the DVD and looked at the couch. Zack's blanket and pillow were still neatly placed at one end of it. She could feel her chest ache at the sight of them.

She kept glancing at the door and her cell phone. She sighed. She was completely restless. She took a shower to distract herself and then got into bed, electing to sleep naked as the weather had just started to get warm again. She was amazed that she was all right being naked again, even if she was alone. She savored the way the sheets felt on her freshly clean skin. It took away a little bit of the restlessness, but not nearly enough to let her sleep. She turned over again and again.

She lay in bed, fidgeting. She watched her digital alarm clock tick it's red numbers off, keeping track of all the time she wasn't asleep. She sat up and got out of bed, suddenly deciding exactly what to do to combat her insomnia

*

Zack was still in Limbo, not wanting to go home to his empty apartment. Hodgins had left hours ago. He kept sorting and filing, sorting and filing. His head was starting to hurt.

His cell phone started to squeal _Highway to Hell_, startling him. He looked at the call I.D. It was Angela. He flipped open the phone. AC/DC immediately shut up. "Hello?"

"Come over," was all she said before hanging up. Zack finished what he was working on, trying to go as slowly as possible. He wanted to run all the way across the city, tearing his clothes off as he went, knock on Angela's front door and throw her to the floor and fuck her senselessly, make her scream and writhe and moan his name.

But, for propriety's sake, he took his time, making sure to clean everything when he was done. He was nothing if not utterly professional.

*

Angela sat on her bed, tapping her foot on the floor. She was listening for the sound of a knock on the door or feet coming up the concrete steps. She kept looking at the clock. She was tempted to use the time to do something more romantic: light candles, put on sexy underwear, something like that. She heard Zoë, the circle leader at her support group:

_Those silly, romantic things can be important, they let you know how much the sexual encounter is your choice. They help you to remember why you're having sex in the first place and why sex is good: it's fun._

She got up from where she was sitting. She opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She usually preferred being naked to fancy underwear; candles, however, were an entirely different manner.

Once, when Brennan and her ex were freshly ex, she and Angela had gone out to a bar and Brennan had explained to Angela how all romantic things were simply cultural edicts that had to do with choosing a mate properly according to social norms.

It had been incredibly depressing. Angela thought of what Brennan had told her while she lit the few candles she had, putting them on her nightstand.

…_you know, gifts and things like that? It's just a show of status and wealth on the man's part. To show he's financially secure. Romance…romance doesn't exist. There's just love. And romance…romance means nothing next to love._

Angela didn't know that she agreed with Brennan: she thought romance was a good way to show love, to show that you thought the other person was worth the trouble. This gave her pause. _Did_ she love Zack? It seemed relatively obvious that she did, but then, it also seemed obvious that she didn't.

She closed her eyes and heard Zack say "Firefly would have been even better then Star Trek if they'd let it keep going. I know that's an extreme view, but believe it completely."

She decided that if she could hear someone say that and still want to have sex with them, it must be love.

*

Zack opened the front door of Angela's apartment. He knocked as well, not wanting to scare her. He shut the door behind him. The apartment looked empty. He felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

Angela was standing in front of the closed door, completely naked. He did not question how she had gotten there, only that he could be so lucky that she was.

She took a step towards him, so that they were toe to toe. Zack lifted his hands from his sides and moved to put them on her hips. He wanted to test the water, to make sure he wouldn't hurt her. Most of all, he just wanted to feel her skin, to pull her close, even closer then this.

He put his hands on her. She didn't flinch. She took a step closer, stepping into his arms. She tilted her head up, but only a little. They were the same height like this, when she was barefoot. She kissed him, lightly at first. When he reciprocated, she put her arms around him, pulling him closer and kissing him more deeply. He slid his hands over her back and her ass, savoring the sensation of her bare skin against his. As he held her, he could feel her breathing. He wanted to pick her up and hold her as tightly as he could.

She pulled him towards her room, lacing her fingers through his.

*

She had gotten his jacket, shirt, shoes and pants off before he said anything. The entire time she'd been taking his clothes off, they'd been kissing. She'd briefly opened her eyes while they were kissing and the concentrated look on his face almost made her laugh.

"Angela."

She paused from the kisses, catching her breath a little. "What?"

"I know that this was your idea, but I'm not sure it's a good one. And I'm not trying to say that you're stupid. Or that your ideas are bad! Or that you don't know what you're doing! I …I…I just don't want you to regret this later."

He looked at her very earnestly. "Because, even though I am _extremely_ sexually aroused at the moment, and I'm sure that you can tell…well, I'm fine with just…just being here with you. Whatever you want or…or need…"

Angela's hand had snaked through the opening in his boxers, cutting off his speech as he groaned. She was smiling at him. "Zack," she said. "Just take off these fucking dorky South Park boxers and get in bed with me. Whatever happens happens. I want you. "

She walked over to her bed, sat down and then slid herself under the top sheet. She watched while Zack pulled off his underwear. He clambered onto the bed from the foot of it, a little clumsily. Angela smiled at him as he got under the sheet with her. She scooted closer to him.

Before he could say anything else, Angela had gotten on top of him. The sheet fell away from her body as she did this. She watched his face and saw nothing but pure adoration, mixed with general horniness.

Zack moved his hands up her torso, taking in the feel of her, running his hands over her breasts, cupping them and kissing them. He heard her breath catch and, feeling this was encouragement enough, kept going, sucking gently on her nipples and kissing his way up her neck to her mouth. She was grinding her hips against him, making him harder and harder. With almost no warning, she started to push herself down on him.

He moaned, starting to thrust into her. Angela closed her eyes and took a breath. She started to move against him, fucking him tentatively. At first she was terrified; thoughts of that long ago night started to flood her memory. But the hands she felt on her body now, she trusted almost completely. She sighed and opened her eyes. The look Zack was giving her sent shivers down her spine. She started to move faster, remembering how much she used to love this. She twisted her hips, flexing her stomach muscles and watched Zack's eyes roll up into his head.

She lay down from her sitting position, so that her head was in the crook of his neck. She started to kiss and suck the skin there, scraping at it lightly with her teeth. He gripped her hips more tightly and started to push down, fucking her harder. She gave a muffled yell as he did this and kissed him, frantically. She could feel him moaning into her mouth as she started rocking her hips faster. He kept up, hands gripping her hips, starting to move faster and faster. He pressed his face into her chest and came, his mouth open against her skin. They stayed that way, collapsed on each other.

He looked up at her suddenly. "I, uh…I…" She smiled at him again. "It's okay, I've got an IUD." He looked at her, slightly puzzled. She laughed. "Nevermind. Don't worry about it." He smiled at her. She got off of him and laid down next to him. He put his arm around her and she snuggled closer to him. "Did you…"

She shook her head. "I didn't think I would." Zack looked a little hurt at that. She started to giggle. "That's _not_ what I meant!" He frowned at her. "Is there anything that I can do?"

"Well, I don't know, is there anything you can do?" She felt like she was about to be completely overcome with giggles. It was marvelous.

Zack immediately dove under the top sheet. "Wait, Zack that might not be- Ohhh!" Angela braced herself against the headboard. She could tell he wasn't that experienced but, she thought _damn does he make up for it with enthusiasm!_

*

After a good five or ten minutes trying and not succeeding at making her come and getting a bit of spunk in his mouth, Angela had asked Zack just to lay with her. She wrapped herself around him, resting her cheek on his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the rush of the ocean in her ear. She felt herself dozing off, quite peacefully.

She felt Zack kiss her on the forehead and snuggle closer to her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek on the top of head.

She kept listening to the rush of the phantom ocean until she fell asleep, into dreams where nothing sinister lurked.


	9. Chapter 9

Booth sat with his legs propped up on Bones' coffee table. He was eating a donut and reading the paper. He'd slept through his alarm and had had to rush out the door this morning, something he hated, especially when he had to meet Bones straight away at the Jeffersonian: it meant he had to shave in the men's room next to Archie Bunker's chair. Now, however, that Bones had elected to show up late, he had a bit of free time to enjoy. He flipped leisurely through the sports pages, sipping the cup of coffee he'd bought from the little café in the east wing.

A few minutes later Brennan breezed in, not even glancing at him. "Please don't put your feet on my coffee table." She set down her bag and sat down behind her desk, all business as usual. Booth stood up and stretched, putting his hands behind his head and twisted side to side from the waist, stretching. Out one of the windows, he caught a glimpse of Angela and Zack, who were just now coming in for work.

They were walking towards Angela's office, talking. They were standing too close together for the conversation to be anything but private. Booth narrowed his eyes at them, suddenly determined to somehow hear what they were saying while being completely inconspicuous. Brennan looked at him and looked outside. "Sit down."

Booth looked at her. "What?" She gave him a look. "You're going to go out there and try to find out if they've had sexual intercourse." Booth tried to give her his most incredulous look.

"Wha-How could you accuse me of something like that? I am offended that you would-" She gave him another look.

"You are a control freak. I know that you talked to Zack and I know that you probably encouraged him to try and express his… feelings to Angela. Which you should not have done."

"Oh really? And why is that?" He raised an eyebrow. Brennan looked down at her desk, continuing her paperwork. "Angela would never sleep with Zack. He's just not her type." Booth stared at her. "Really?"

Brennan looked up at him. "Really. Angela has always been into artists and musicians and, frankly, men who are more physically attractive then Zack. Every man she has ever dated has been completely beneath her due to her need for excitement and unpredictability."

"I think you're selling Angela short." Booth chuckled. He watched the pair of them talking, while they inched closer and closer together.

Brennan sighed. He could tell she was irritated that he wasn't immediately accepting her opinion as absolutely true. "Zack is inexperienced sexually and emotionally. Any kind of relationship between them would be purely ephemeral. Besides," she said, laughing a little, "Angela is my best friend. How well do you really know her?"

Booth walked over to her. "Bones," he pointed out the huge glass wall. Angela and Zack were kissing, not having noticed their two colleagues in Brennan's office. "Oh my God." Brennan's mouth fell open. Zack and Angela broke apart and went their separate ways. Angela walked into Brennan's office.

"Hey! How are you Bren? Booth?" She held the manila folder she was carrying out to Brennan. "Here's the reconstruction you asked for. There's about three different faces in here because of the odd placement of the flesh markers. I couldn't make a clear I.D., I'm sorry." Brennan was staring at her.

"What? Oh! Oh, I…I'm sure that you did the best you could, Ange." She reached for the folder. Angela snatched it back for a moment.

"Wait. You're acting _really_ weird." She looked at them. "What's going on?" She kept looking back and forth between them, peering at their faces. Suddenly, her eyes widened and a grin bloomed on her face. "Did you guys have sex?"

Booth immediately exploded with denial. "What? No! I….she…God, why would you say something like that?"

Brennan had not stopped staring at Angela. "Um…I…um…" Angela looked at her, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

"I'm…I'm just going to go now. I'm going to go back to my office and work. And I guess I'll see you around. At some point today." She nodded and left, giving them one last suspicious look.

Angela walked to her office, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles. She approached her desk and began the long, hard road of filing all the paperwork from her last three cases. The outside world quickly fell away.

Angela watched her pen glide across the paper, filling in names, dates, procedural mumbo jumbo, recording her hours, re-recording the way she had handled the evidence...it was dull, mindless work and Angela's mind, in accordance with that, began to drift. She did this kind of paper work day and day out and so, she indulged herself in the type of hardcore zoning that is usually impossible without marijuana or deep habit.

Her mind was serenely orbiting Neptune and headed towards Alpha Centauri, when a hand dropped onto her shoulder. Adrenaline rushed through her and she snapped around, letting her fist fly.

Hodgins yelled and cupped his nose, where she had landed a blistering right hook, stumbling back a bit. "Jesus Christ, Ange!"

Her mouth fell open. "Oh…oh my God! Fuck! I am so sorry!" She put her hands on her hips, completely flustered, jittery and shaking. "Why the hell did you sneak up on me like that?" Hodgins glared at her, albeit not very angrily. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you! I came…well…I came over here to tease you."

Angela gave him a look. "Tease me? Tease me about _what_?" Hodgins looked up at her, still clutching his now slightly swollen nose. Amazingly, he was smirking. "You had sex with Zack."

"What? You-oh my God, you're such an asshole! You know that?" Angela flopped down on to her couch. She sighed, crossing her arms. "How did you find out?" Hodgins sat down next to her, grinning. "I could just tell. _Everyone_ could just tell. Except Doctor Brennan, of course. But, uh, you kissing Zack in front of her and Booth took care of that!" At that he began to giggle. Angela rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, when Zack gets laid, I can just tell." Hodgins gave her a lopsided smile. "You should have seen him, he's all klutzy whenever someone mentions you and he keeps staring into space, all smiley. It's hilarious. Do you feel better now?"

Angela sighed again. "No, not really. But tease away."

Hodgins started to laugh. "You had sex with Zack. You had sex with the dorky intern. You had sex with Brennan's dorky intern!" He pointed at her, laughing even harder. "You had _sex_ with _Zack_!" He doubled over, laughing so hard that he hit his nose on his knee.

"Aw! Fuck! Fuck, that hurt so bad!" He was still laughing, cupping his nose and pointing at her. He looked so ridiculous that Angela started laughing, just a little bit at first and then harder and harder, until her head was tipped back and tears were coursing down her cheeks.

"You had _sex with Zack_!" Hodgins choked out between howling laughs. "I know right?" Angela replied, her voice cracking with hilarity. And they kept laughing, until eventually they couldn't anymore, and just sat there, trying to get over their giggles.

After work, Zack stood in the parking lot, leaning against Angela's lemon yellow Mustang. Hodgins had been giving him looks all-day and giggling. Doctor Brennan had been her usual self, but Booth had acted very friendly towards him, winking at him occasionally and, once, giving him a sly thumbs-up. It was all very weird.

He saw Angela. She walked to the car, smiling a little when she saw him. "Hey." She kept smiling. He smiled back at her. She got into the car and unlocked the passenger door. Zack stared, not sure what to do.

Angela rolled down the window. "Well? Are you going to get in or not?" She didn't need to tell him twice. He bounced into the car and looked down at his hands. He had no idea what to do. The last woman he'd slept with hadn't spoken to him in months. He hadn't even known the girl he'd had sex with before that, which, admittedly, had been the girl he'd lost his virginity to. He was completely out of his depth. He waited for Angela to say something, anything; he had no idea what was going to happen next. "So…what now?" She shrugged. "I don't know."

His face fell. He looked at Angela and realized she wasn't looking at him either; amazingly enough, it seemed like she was even more confused than he was. "Um…beer, pizza, movie? My place?" She looked up and looked him right in eyes. Zack was suddenly a lot less confused. It wasn't the thought of the last six months that was keeping her here, it wasn't pity and it wasn't any obligation.

Zack leaned closer and smoothed her hair back. He was incredibly nervous. He had never kissed a girl in his life; it was usually them that did everything. But still, he leaned even closer, realizing that being shy at this point was a bit ridiculous. He didn't wait for Angela to cross the space between them.

When they finally broke away from each other, they were both smiling. "So…pizza, beer, movie? Your place?" Angela's smile widened. Zack thought she looked more beautiful then he had ever seen her. "Absolutely." She started the car, looking back at him for a moment, still smiling. "What movie?" Zack shrugged. "Anything."

They drove away, the future bright, but never certain. But that was normal.


End file.
